


You Look The Way Love Feels

by hheroes



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angel/Demon Relationship, F/M, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 03:52:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2908382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hheroes/pseuds/hheroes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a few millennia, you get to know a guy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Look The Way Love Feels

**Author's Note:**

> Raph is an angel because he's already a protector, April is a demon because I said so. Eventually, I might write something where it's the other way around but for now, enjoy this monstrosity.

After a few millennia, you get to know a guy.

April knows the way his smile curves and bends and twists and a way much too sinful for an angel; she knows the tiny flare of his nostrils whenever he gets particularly fed up with her bullshit; she knows the sight of his true form, the _light_ and the _purity_ of it. It’s _blinding_.

He’s got wings that are crystal-white, fade into a soft red, the transition a reminder that he works for Him, but that doesn’t mean his hands are bloodless.

And she thinks it’s funny that he tries so _hard_  to be good all the time, and gets so frustrated when he fails. Oh, and does he fail. April has given witness to his most sinful acts--she’s usually the reason for them, to be honest--with relish and something like victory warming her from the inside out. 

The point is, she knows Raphael, Angel of the Lord, like the back of her hand, even though he’d hate to admit it. In their lives of immortal loneliness, she’s the closest thing he has to a friend. It must drive him _crazy_. 

April doesn’t care much about being by her lonesome; Downstairs isn’t exactly a place of warm welcomes and cozy hugs. She doesn’t spend much time there, admittedly, because even a demon can grow sick and tired of fire and torture 24/7. But she’s not like Raph; he practically _lives_ for the sake of others, selfless in a way that makes her skin crawl, and all too dependent on his angelic brethren. 

But, even then, he doesn’t spend a lot of time there either. He flourishes on the Earth’s soil, driving through the land or simply transporting to wherever his next assignment is. 

It’s _weird_. Angels like Heaven--they’re _supposed_ to, that’s _why_ they’re angels. And even if he slips up, Raph is no demon, which confuses the hell out of April even more.

“Do you have, like, heavenly family reunions,” she asks idly, tailing him on his journey through the southern United States. She’s in the passenger seat of the shiny new truck he bought in Texas, _in cash_ , the whole deal so squeaky clean April had almost tempted the dealer just to make her skin stop crawling. “Angelic barbeques and stuff. I bet you do.”

“We don’t,” Raphael snaps in a tone that sounds like he doesn’t want to talk to her, but the fact that he’s said anything at all betrays him. “Where did you even get that idea?”

“Dunno, sounds like the kind of ridiculous kumbaya nonsense you guys would get up to in your free time.” She smiles smoothly, all teeth and suaveness and Raph gags on sight. “What do you do in Heaven then? Sit in church all day, puppy therapy-- come on, you guys have to do _something_ disgustingly pure.”

Raph drives in silence. For the past century or so, he’s taken on the body of a dark skinned man with short black hair and a wide smile. The veins in his neck strain whenever he gets annoyed or angry; April makes a game of getting them to bulge beneath the skin.

“Sometimes,” he says suddenly, “we tell stories to each other. Guardians and warriors and even messengers-- we’ve all got stuff to say. It’s like a party: we sit around and feast and talk for a couple days before everyone moves on to the next thing.”

April stares at him.

“Are you serious,” she asks, deadpan.

Raph doesn’t crack so much as a smile. “Yeah.” 

“That sounds _horrible_ ,” she emphasizes with her hands. “You guys really live up to your stereotypes, huh? Do you sit in circles and talk about your feelings too?” 

“It’s not frowned upon,” Raph admits grudgingly, and April cackles so loudly he starts and nearly swerves off the road. 

“Shut up!” he tells her. “You sound like a hyena when you do that. Makes my ears bleed.”

“Don’t hate on me just because you’re embarrassed.” As if on cue, Raph hunches his shoulders in and flushes. “Aw, did I make Raphie-Waphie blush?”

“I will kick you out of this car,” he says, “and run you over. Twice.”

“ _That’s_ not very angelic of you.”

“Neither is going cross-country with hellspawn,” he responds, and, well, he makes a good point.

April kicks her feet up in silence for a while, which Raph seems to appreciate. They cover another 30 miles before she speaks up again.

“You know, you sound like you like it up there.”

Raph snorts. “Obviously.”

“So why don’t you stay there? What’s the point of leaving?”

He clenches the steering wheel so hard she thinks he might snap a few bones in his human hands. Instantly, she recognizes it’s a bad question, but she’s never claimed to be _nice_.

“I’m no -- I’m better here.” When he says it, it sounds like he’s talking to himself.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Shut up, it doesn’t matter.”

“I thought you said talking about feelings was a greenlight Upstairs.”

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean _I_ do it,” Raph says, like it’s obvious.

“So you aren’t a _total_ goody-two-shoes,” she says triumphantly, and he _flinches_. “Looks like I’m rubbing off on you.”

He says something in the language of old--a tongue she hasn’t heard him speak in for quite some time, but he whispers a prayer for strength under his breath and she grins, knowing she’s breaking him a little more each day.

“My brothers are in Heaven,” he says suddenly.

April gives him a weird look. “Well, no shit.”

“No, I mean -- my _brothers_. Not my brethren. It’s completely different.” He looks somewhat sick. “I avoid my brothers as much as possible.”

“And why’s that?”

“Have you ever spent more than five seconds around family?” He shakes his head. “We fight. A lot. I-- me and my older brother, we got our wings suspended for a couple decades a while ago. It wasn’t pretty.”

“You got grounded?” April translates, and Raph flushes as he nods. “Wait, is that why you disappeared for like half of the eighteenth century?”

Now he just looks sheepish. “Oops?”

“Dude! I waited for you _forever_ \--” April immediately wants to take the words back, but it’s too late now. They’re out there; he’s heard them, and by the interested arch of his eyebrows, she can tell he’s intrigued. All this time, she’s enjoyed getting him to blush, but now that she feels heat rising to her cheeks all she can do is scowl.

“Watch out, April. I might start to think you actually _care_.” He fights a smile.

If only he knew.

“What about you? I’m pretty sure you get off on wreaking havoc wherever we go. Why not stay where there’s havoc everywhere?”

The first thought that comes to her mind is: _Because you’re not there_. And just like that, she knows she’s fucked.

It’s not anything new. Accompanying Raphael isn’t all for his benefit. She likes him, or at least grew to like him. At first she followed him out of curiosity, than it was fascination, delight in ruining in whatever he’d painstakingly built, but somehow all of that had twisted into actual, honest pleasure whenever she spent time with him. It wasn’t like they did anything (she shared a hotel bed with him once and it seemed to scandalize him for about a month after) but she was totally satisfied just being near him, talking to him, _knowing_ him.

Oh, for _fuck’s sake_.

“It’s more fun to shit on your parade,” she says, and it’s not entirely a lie. “Plus, mortals are fun.”

His eyebrows go up. “Fun?”

“Oh, yeah. They’re so wrapped up in whatever they’re doing, all unconcerned with greater powers that be. Some of them think they’ve got a clue, but nah, they’re all pretty ignorant.” A little floored with how honest she’s being, she quickly tacks on, “And they’re fun to fuck with,” just to see him squirm.

“You do _what_?” His surprise isn’t from taking offense, he just looks like he genuinely didn’t know, the innocent thing.

“ _With_ ,” April reiterates. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, you prude.”

Some of the fire goes out Raph in a small huff. She’s gratified; seeing him in his natural state of perpetually annoyed calms her frenetic nerves. Even if she’s having an internal crisis about her - _feelings_ , at least she can still annoy the hell out of him. He looks incredulous when he says, “I heard what you said, it’s just -- why _would_ I?”

“Because you _can_!” Throwing up her arms, she asks, “What the hell do you _do_ in your freetime, man?”

She swears, if he says something like _‘pray’_ she’s going to pop off the steering wheel and bludgeon him with it.

“I have fun,” he says defensively. “I just don’t take advantage of humans to do it.”

“Yeah right, you’ve done something to screw around with them before. You _have_. I’ve seen it.” He’s shaking his head, but she’s not going to let this slide. “Get off your high horse, Raphael.”

“Excuse you?”

April scoffs. “You heard me. You _suck_ at being good, honestly, you’re no better than me, no matter how much you try to act like it,” she says, which is nothing she hasn’t said before, but she goes to ruin it by adding, “Makes me wonder--do you stay on Earth because you’re proud of yourself, or because you’re too ashamed to show your face in Heaven?”

That came out wrong. Horror dawns on her face-- _that came out wrong_ , all of that was _wrong_ , she didn’t mean to--she doesn’t even know where that came from or why she said it--

“You think you know everything,” Raphael says, low and pained, “but you don’t, April. You really don’t.”

It hurts. He means for it to hurt and it does; if April had a heart, she’s sure those words would’ve broken it clean in half.

*

“I think you should leave,” Raph says one hundred miles later.

April’s throat chokes up. Her mind reels, instantly in denial. They’ve spent thousands on thousands of years together, and not once has he ever asked her to leave. He never asks; sometimes he’ll tell her, during their fight in the 16th century he’d kicked her out with his own hands, but he’s never met her eyes and asked for her to leave.

“I-” April says.

Raph interrupts. “I don’t want you here.”

 _That’s a lie_ , she thinks, but she can’t make her mouth move.

“April?” He briefly takes his eyes off the road to look at her.

“Okay,” she manages.

He blinks. “Really?”

“Yeah. Just, just drop me off in -- wherever the fuck, I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. I’ll leave.” She’s dying, she has to be, the way her insides seem to be collapsing within her can’t be anything else.

His expression turns annoyed. “April--”

“It’s fine, I’ll leave. I don’t need you, you know.”

Raphael’s eyes go soft. “Are you sure about that?”

“Wha- oh, fuck _you_ , yeah I’m sure,” April lashes out. “There are other angels out there for me to terrorize.”

“Yeah? Name one.”

She panics, grasping at straws. “Your brothers? Yeah, _yeah_ ,  I could fuck with them, no big deal--”

He slams on the brake and they got from 75 miles per hour to zero a lot faster than they should. The trucks skids, swerving them off the side of the road. They rattle to a stop in a ditch. April’s nose is bleeding, having slammed it against the dashboard, and her body feels bruised, but that doesn’t stop Raph from grabbing her around the neck.

His eyes are flooded with white, pupils and irises completely gone. His voice takes on that pitch and timber of the angered divine; it sounds like a thousand voices speaking at once.

_“Stay away from my brothers, hellspawn.”_

The bright light of his eyes start to leak, spreading across his skin, a stark contrast against his dark complexion, and April scrambles to break free of his grip. He doesn’t budge.

“Raphael,” she chokes, “ _stop_ \--”

“ _Do you understand me, demon_?” Raphael says, his voice bleeding fury. Liquid fire melts through the fabric of his shirt--his wings, burning the air and leaving the smell of smoke behind as they take shape on his back. His wings, burning with white-hot rage, the leather seat bubbling to a boil on contact with them.

She hasn’t see him scorch through a human form since -- since before documented history. For a temperamental hot-head, he’s fairly good at keeping his more...overwhelming emotions in check. Usually, that is.

“Fuck, yes!” Suffocating in his grip, she can feel the effects of his wings on her human body, mercilessly scorching the skin just from the residual light. “Whatever, just calm down, Raph! Put away your wings before you--”

 _"Calm down?_ ” he echoes, and his voice grows louder. “ _How dare you make demands of me?_ ”

His grip is tightening, squeezing the life out of her, and April can see the worried humans pulling to a stop on the highway to come investigate. But if they see Raphael’s eyes or shit, his _wings_ \--anything that is a part of their true forms--they will go blind immediately. They will _die_.

April doesn’t feel like dealing with centuries of Raph’s lingering guilt, nor cleaning up the mess of too many melted bodies.

She has to shake him out of it. She has to get him to calm down.

“I won’t go after your brothers!” she screams, to no avail. “Did you hear me? Your brothers are safe!”

“ _No one is safe from you. Not until you are dead._ ”

April slams her head into his. It seems to shake him, forces him to ease his grip while he rears back and tries to blink away the pain.

The humans are getting closer, and though he’s distracted he’s still glowing, still leaking divine light that could melt their eyes right out of their heads.

April grabs him by the neck and looks into his eye sockets, searching desperately for the asshole angel she’d foolishly fallen for.

“ _Raphael_ ,” she says, “ _come back to me_.”

He roars at her. Light and more liquid fire pour out of his mouth. April can feel it scalding her skin, melting away chunks of flesh and clothing alike.

Screaming in pain, she grabs at the front of his shirt and yanks him forward, slamming their mouths together.

He tastes like straight up sawdust, and up close his eyes could very well blind her too, but she’s not so much thinking about herself as she is of those dumbass humans circling the car. Raphael blinks, tries to pull away, but she stays glued onto him, following his mouth.

He blinks once and his eyes dim, twice and his irises are visible again, a third time and she catches a glimpse of his pupil before he closes them and leaves them shut. His hands settle on either side of her face, compelling her to stay put and kiss him forever. And she could, she really could, but someone taps incessantly on the window and they have to pull away.

A civilian pulls open the car door. The liquid light has disappeared entirely, leaving the mortal safe of spontaneous melting as he cuts through the seat belt and pulls her out of the car, someone on the other side helping Raph out as well.

He says something to her that she can’t hear; her ears are ringing too loudly. But relief washes over her like rain, seeing the human safe. He’s safe _because_ of her, and even though he’ll never know the truth, April feels accomplished anyway.

Her nose is still bleeding, she remembers, after she sees the blood above Raph’s upper lip that probably came from her. His shirt is burned to a crisp, just thin strips that hang across his shoulders. The hairs on his arms are blackened from being so close to his wings; she looks down at her hands and finds that the skin is melted all the way off, leaving behind a bloody mess.

But none of that is important. Raph’s staring right past every human that’s come to their aide. He only has eyes for her.

She shuts her eyes and hopes he never turns away.

*

They escape the hospital after the first night; Raph manages to convince the doctors that all of his wounds are superficial, but April isn’t quite as lucky. She can’t exactly play off her melted skin as something a bandaid and bedrest will fix. Raph stays planted by April’s side all night until she makes a miraculous recovery, and when they check out he pays the bills all upfront.

Outside, the truck awaits, having been towed to the hospital to wait for them, at Raph’s insistence.

They haven’t spoken a word in hours. For April, it’s because she’s been focused on healing her body. But for Raph, she suspects he’s too mortified to find words. He silently helps her inside the car, leaving bursts of heat where his skin touches, before climbing in on the driver’s side.

He makes as if to start the engine, then aborts the movement halfway and freezes.

“I can still leave, if that’s what you’re waiting for,” she says simply and reaches to open the door. She’s surprised at how easily the words come out, despite feeling like she’s suffocating.

“No!” Raph jerks his head up and reaches out for her. “Stay, _please_.”

She hesitates, hand still on the door. After a moment, she let’s go, ashamed of how desperate she is to stay.

“I’m sorry,” he says. It’s the first time she’s ever heard him say those words. “I just--”

“I shouldn’t have threatened your brothers,” she admits. “I’m an idiot and I just, I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be saying that,” Raph shakes his head. “I almost killedthe humans trying to help us. I was so - _angry_ , April, I almost killed _you_.”

He sounds -- his voice is despairing, shattering on the last word and he stares at his hands like he doesn’t recognize them. He should be happy to get rid of her, but instead, he seems miserable.

Watching him, April’s brain is too numb to think of something to say other than, “You asked me to leave. I should’ve left.”

“No, no, _please_ no.” He winces. “Don’t - don’t leave.” 

“Raphael,” and she swallows hard, swallows down emotions and feelings and doesn’t allow herself to hope. “Don’t say anything you don’t mean.”

“I mean it. Don’t leave me.” He exhales loudly, rubbing his hands over her face. “I was -- in a bad place, earlier. But I was pissed at myself, not you.”

April shakes her head. “You’re _always_ pissed at me.”

“Well that’s… mostly true,” he says after a moment’s hesitation. “But when you said I was ashamed…”

 _Stop talking_ , April thinks, pleads within her mind, but her tongue feels like it’s stuck halfway down her throat.

“You were right.” Raph flinches, as if the words cause him physical pain. He takes a shuddering breath and clutches the steering wheel even though the car isn’t on. He’s scrambling now, latching onto the first thing he sees. “I’m -- you said it yourself, I’m no better than you. What kind of angel…” he trails off, shaking his head disgustedly.

Up close, this kind of self-hatred hurts to watch. This should be the kind of thing she lives for -- _literally_ \-- but watching Raph grovel in his own self-inflicted agony just makes her stomach twist.

“That’s not true, that’s not even _close_ to being true,” she counters, surprised by the heat in her voice. “You’re good, Raph. You’re the most selfless fucking thing in the universe, you’re pure and you’re everything I’m not-- you’re not just good, you’re damn _great_.”

He might refute it but she can’t tell; her ears are ringing again, tingling in the ensuing silence, and April forces down a great sob threatening to bubble out of her chest. Everything she said was true, but it was too much, all at once. More than she ever wanted to say. Shame burns her face as she ducks her head, looking longingly at the door handle like she hopes to bust the door open and run.

“You’re good too,” Raph is saying, muffled, like he’s underwater.

She laughs bitterly. “Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?”

“A spirit,” he says emphatically, “an _angel_.”

“A fallen one. That doesn’t count.”

“You saved all those humans today. You saved them from _me_. _You_ protected them, today, _you_ were their angel.” He turns his whole body to stare at her; the words coming off his own lips must sound crazy to even him. “April, you are _amazing._ ”

All at once, her dam breaks. Any semblance of control she had flies right out the window as she cradles both of his cheeks, she can feel her skin _burning_ with want, she wants _him_ , she wants _Raphael._ His green eyes are open wide, waiting, waiting for _her_ , and that’s all she needs. April pulls him to her and kisses him.

Unlike their last kiss, April can’t convince herself she has a selfless reason of giving in to it. She’s kissing him because she wants to, because she’s _dying_ to it. She’s selfishly drinking him in, taking everything he has to offer without being certain she has anything to give back.

It crosses her mind that the two of them making out in the front seat of a Ford is probably going to have some kind of consequence, from both their superiors, but Raph reaches out to pull her in and escapes her lips just long enough to breathe out her name, and she decides that he’s worth it. He’s always been worth it, and now he think she’s worth it too.

(After a few millennia, you get to know a guy; you grow to love him, and if you’re lucky, he’ll love you back.)


End file.
